Batavia Block
by ILoveSprinklesOnMyToast
Summary: Batavia Block was one of many houses of Java street, built roughly 20 years ago, to empty the overcrowded center of the city. Nowadays, Batavia Block was a home to criminals, refugees and everything in between. Human AU. Chapter 3 is up featuring: Bella (Belgium), Lars (Netherlands), Sadiq (Turkey) and Carlos (Cuba)
1. Introduction

**Hello! This is going to be my first multi-chapter story! Some people have the same surnames because they're siblings, and I thought it would be weird if they would all have different surnames. This is a Human AU and it'll probably be messy, with various POV's and sillyness and angst and stuff. Enjoy :)**

This story starts at Java street. Java street was, well Java street was just a normal street actually, a normal street lying between Jakarta street and Sumatra street, in an usual neigbourhood, in an average city. The houses were dull, square and grey, and were catagorized by various names and numbers. Each house was divided in appartements and many of the houses were a home to multiple families. Our story takes place at the house hidden away in the darkest part of the street, building number 4. Building number 4, also known as block Batavia by it's inhabitants, was on the outside no different from the others. Just like the other 8 buildings, it was about 4 floors high and it had the same tiny square windows. The houses were built roughly 20 years ago, to empty the overcrowded center of the city. Nowadays, Java street was a home to a colourful mix of criminals, refugees and everything in between. You could clearly see it by the variety of surnames written on the panel next to the entrance. It looked something like this:

**Java Street, building 4, Block Batavia.**

_Push the button of the household you'd like to visit._

_O _**1A**[_Italian Restaurant ''Al Capone" _R. Vargas, L. Vargas, F. Vargas]

_O _**1B**[R. Edelstein, E. Herdevary]

_O _**2A **[A. Kirkland (1) A. Kirkland, (2) F. Bonnefoy, M. Jones, A. Jones.]

_O **2B** _[Y. Wang, K. Honda]

_O _**3A**[L. Beilschmidt, G. Beilschmidt,]

_O_** 3B **[T. Laurinaitis, E. Laurinaitis, R. Laurinaitis, F. Lukasiewicz]

_O _**4A** [L Van Rijn, B. Van Rijn]

_O _**4B** [ Y. Arlovska, I. Arlovska, N. Arlovska]

_O _**Penthouse**[B. Kohler, T.Väinämöinen, M. Kohler, L. Kohler E. Steilson ]

In this story, we will take a look into the lives of these people, living behind Batavia Block's tiny windows.

**Next chapter: 1A: Italian restaurant "Al Capone"**


	2. Chapter 1

**Okay so, yeah, chapter one. And the world cup. yeah.**

**1A Italian restaurant _Al Capone._**

We'll start the story at the bottom of the building, in a colourful restaurant with cheap plastic chairs. It was 13 july 2014, the evening of the World Cup, and Lovino Vargas found himself growing more and more annoyed with his customers, especially a certain white haired German. The man was currently sitting in one of the plastic chairs at less than a meter from the television, red eyes following every movement on the screen, lips moving rapidly. Lovino tried his best to ignore him, focussing al his attention on the table he was cleaning. Then the man began pinching his beer can, producing metallic sounds.

Lovino threw his towel on the table and groaned in frustration. "What the hell are you doing, idiota?"

Gilbert ripped his eyes from the television, and gave him a confused look. ""Huh?"

Lovino resisted the urge to slap him across the face. Gilbert turned his eyes back to the tv again, and continued abusing the beer can.

"He's praying that Argentina doesn't beat Germany too hard.' Antonio jeered from his spot at the lumpy couch in the back of the restaurant.

"Shut it Toni. You're going to owe me a lot of money after this." Gilbert replied without looking away from the screen.

"I highly doubt that, Gil" Antonio replied in a sing-song voice. "Those Argentinans have Spanish blood in them,they were already born with a burning passion and talent for football."

"Your country was beaten by the Netherlands, Antonio. Is die Mannschaft doing well, Bruder?" Ludwig had entered the restaurant and had taken a seat beside Antonio. Antonio hid his face in his hands.

"Was it necessary to remind me of that again? I'm trying to get over it, you know?"

Ludwig smirked. "What was it again? 3-0? 4-0?"

"5-0, Kessesese!" Gilbert chuckled in front of the tv, his brother soon joining in.

"Your Mannschaft of bastardos isn't doing that well either, almost the end of the game and still no points." Lovino pointed out.

The German smirks fell, and they both tended to focus on the game.

Antonio rose his head out of his hands and beamed a ridiculously bright smile. "Thanks for standing up for me Lovi."

"I wasn't standing up for you. I was merely pointing out facts." Lovino told him, lightly annoyed. Antonio blew a clumsy air kiss towards the slightly flustered Italian. 'You know you love me, Lovi."

Lovino flipped him off and disappeared into the kitchen. The three remaining men then watched the game in silence, the only thing heard was the soft buzzing of a fan and Gilberts rambling. The game dragged on and on without any progress on either side and eventually it was decided that there would be penalties to decide the outcome of the game. Gilbert groaned in desperation. Antonio turned his head towards the kitchen. "Lovi, can you make us some dinner?" There was some slamming around with pans before an angry voice replied "Only if you give me the money now." Antonio pouted in the direction of Lovino, even though he couldn't see him. "Ah Lovi, don't be like that, I will pay you back tomorrow, kay?"

Lovino poked his head out of the kitchen. "No idiota, this is a restaurant. You pay for your food. No money, no pasta. Simple as that."

"But Lovi, I'm hungry!"

"Who's hungry?"

A tanned man with dark curly hair had entered the restaurant. Romulus Vargas was the owner of the Italian restaurant, and Lovino's grandpa. How he managed to look so young was secret nobody knew, but everybody knew and loved the cheerful Italian.

"Nonno, can you please tell the tomato bastard he has to pay for his food like everyone else?"Lovino sighed.

"You're out of money again, Antonio?" Romulus asked, slightly anxious.

Antonio shrugged. "Yeah, I got sacked last week. Again."

Romulus sighed. "Again? What's going to become of you? You can't live from other peoples money forever, Toni."

Antonio stretched and yawned. Romulus threw a glance at the tv, then at the lounging Spanish guy. "Ah well." He sighed "It is World Cup day today, si? I guess pasta's on the house then!"

Antonio beamed at the older Italian. "You're amazing."

Romulus gave him a seductive wink, then turned his attention towards the two Germans, Gilbert locked with the tv, Ludwig watching the conversation between the mediteranians rather awkwardly. "Can I get something for you tw-" Gilbert waved his hand in Romulus' direction to shut him up. "Sssshh, they are taking penalties now!"

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "Pasta and beer for him and me please."

Romulus smiled. "Ofcourse, ofcourse. It's all on the house tonight!"

Lovino hissed "We're going to go bankrupt if you keep giving everybody 'food on the house'!"

Romulus patted his grandson on his shoulder. "Only for friends, si?"

Lovino mumbled a soft 'idiot' and walked into the kitchen again. They listened for to the rambling of the sports commentator for a moment, and to Lovino slamming plates down with a little more force than necessary.

Romulus looked around the restaurant. "Are there no other people who want to watch the World Cup?"

Antonio shook his head. "No, everybody already knows the outcome." He replied lazily.

Romulus raised an eyebrow. Antonio smirked. "Argentina."

Gilbert turned to look at Antonio rather angrily. "No. Just no."

"But seriously, nobody else? Not even Lars? I thought he was into football?"

Gilbert snorted. "Lars?"

Ludwig sighed. "Our neighbour. The Dutch guy who always parks his bicycle in front of our door." Gilbert proceeded to think for a moment. "The drug addict?"

Antonio flopped on his back, chuckling. 'That's the one."

Gilbert grinned. 'That guy wouldn't come down here unless you forced him. He's just as my little bruder here. He's got a giant stick up his-"

"Bruder." Ludwig interrupted harshly "It's Argentina's turn again."

Gilbert locked his eyes with the television instantly. "Ohmeingodohmygodohneinohnoohmynoomgohmeingottneinno-"

"Bella said she'd come though." Antonio stated, completely ignoring Gilberts distressed rambling.

"And here I am!" a cheerful voice said. "Am I in time for the outcome?" Bella danced into the room, wearing a red ribbon in her hair, and holding a round box in her hands.

"Ciao Bella!" Romulus cried, running towards her to embrace her.

"The game's still going." Ludwig stated from the couch.

"Not for long." Antonio stated. "Argentina is going to win eventua-"

"Shut it bastardo." Lovino said, walking out of the kitchen with three plates of pasta.

"Bella can I get you something? I've got Belgian beer." Romulus said.

Bella beamed at him. "Yes please!" She flopped down on the couch between Ludwig and Antonio and put the box on the ground beside her. "It's a World Cup Cake." she explained while Lovino gave the customers their pasta. "Feli made the decorations, he should be here any minute with the champagne."

Lovino frowned at her. "I didn't know you were so into football?"

Bella smiled showing him her wrist full of bracelets in flag colors. "Since I was born. I guess my brother and I have something in common after all."

"How's he?" Antonio asked curiously. Bella sighed, her shoulders drooping just a little. "I've got no idea. I wished he would tell me. But I barely see him. Always out, walking around the city at night, always doing shady stuff. It is like he isn't there.." Bella stopped mid-sentence and forced a smile on her face again. "Anyway, look, it's already Germany's turn!."

Antonio groaned. "Argentina hasn't scored!?" The Belgian girl, the silent Germans, the lazy Spaniard, the charming Italian and the grumpy Italian all watched breathlessly as Götze prepared himself to shoot. They all watched in silence as the ball hit the goal. Gilbert jumped up, knocking his chair over in the progress and fist-pumped the air. "GOAAAL GOALGOALGOALGOALGOAAAAL! JAAA DEUTSCHLAND! WIR HABEN GEWONNEN! WELMEISTER!"Antonio hid his face in his knees and whined. Lovino covered his ears and shook his head, and Romulus and Bella cheered.

Then Feliciano walked in. "Ciaoo everyone. Champaign is here! Vee~Congratulations Gilbert and Ludwig!" Feliciano poured everyone champaign and they watched the German brothers do a ridiculous victory dance, roaring along with the German anthem. Bella smiled as she revealed the World Cup Cake, accompanied with a lot of "ooohhhs" and "aaahhs" Her brother would come later, now she just had to enjoy the moment with her friends.

A few hours later.

Lovino and Feliciano were sound asleep, Romulus, Gilbert and Antonia had decided to go clubbing, dragging poor Ludwig with them, and Bella was left with Elizaveta, who'd dropped by later on the evening. Elizaveta inspected her surroundings carefully, before beckoning Bella to come closer. They sat together on the plump couch, the only thing standing in a room full of knocked over chairs, and watched eachother for a minute.

Then Elizaveta said in a hushed voice.

"You'll never guess what I heard." Bella rolled her eyes. Eliza loved gossiping, and always knew everything about everyone. "What is it Eliza?"

Eliza bent towards Bella. "Well, I know that there's been trouble in paradise lately."

Bella tilted her head in confusion.

"For Francis and Arthur," Elizaveta continued "It seems that they have some problems in their relationship."

Bella laughed. "They always have trouble with their relationship. How they ever got together is a riddle to me."

Elizaveta nodded. " I know, but this time it is pretty serious, Allistair told me himself."

Bella leaned in to Eliza, she was pretty curious now. "What is it?" Eliza inched closer, until her lips were a few inches from Bella's ear. "He says that their arguments have gotten heavier. Arthur often locks himself in his room, and Allistair says he's walked in on Francis crying more than once. And it affects the kids to. Alfred's only gone louder, and poor Mattie refuses to say anything."

Bella gasped. "That's horrible. I hope they figure it out."

Elizaveta nodded. "I know. I got to go, otherwise Roderich will probably call the police.""

Bella smirked. "How cute, your husband worries for you."

Elizaveta rose from the plump couch and walked through the trashed restaurant towards the exit. "See you tomorrow!" Bella stared after her. "See you tomorrow.." She mumbled, before forcing herself leave too, to see if her brother was home yet.

**That last thing between Bella and Eliza was totally meant to make you curious, and it is meant to introduce you to the story. I know this thing was a little silly but it briefly mentioned some of the characters problems. So...**


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

**Rated: T for dropping F-bomb and stuff.**

**Summary: Alistair babysits his nephews, Francis and Arthur get into a heavy argument.**

**2A Kirkland-Bonnefoy.**

It still was the evening of the world cup, a wonderful summer evening. While most people his age were out getting piss drunk, Alistair Kirkland found himself at home with his nephews. He smiled fondly as he watched the two boys next to him.

Alfred was sound asleep, taking most of the space available, the soda can in his hand dangling dangerously, threatening to spill on the pure white couch. Alistair reached over to gently take the can out of the boy's hands, placing it on the ground beside him. Allistair chucked contently, he felt like he was doing a pretty good job babysitting two 10 year olds. Okay, so maybe he had let them watch movies untill, he checked his watch, now, but he'd managed to at least keep them quiet for a few hours. Allistair let his gaze wander to what looked like a bundle of blankets curled up on the ground. It wasn't that hard to keep Matthew quiet, he thought sadly. Heck, he wasn't even sure if the boy had said anything at all this evening. The redhead eyed the bundle for a few moments straight, before deciding it was time for another beer.

He stood up from the couch, careful not to throw Alfred off, and walked towards the fridge. As he opened the fridge, a cool breeze greeted him and only now he realized that it was boiling hot in the appartment. Beer in hand, he drew the heavy curtains away from the window, revealing the sight of Java street at night.

The five other buildings Batavia Block shared the street with, were built exactly the same as his block. That meant that they had, just as appartment 2A and the others, a small light beside their window, to prevent anybody getting robbed/raped on their way to their appartment. All those lights shone so bright Alistair had to close the curtains and the entire window to get a satisfying night of sleep. The lights iluminated the dark streets and the people who roamed them with a spooky glow He sighed contently when the room immidiately cooled down, now illuminated with the strange glow of hundreds of lights.

Alistair took a big gulp from his beer as he watched two figures cross the street, screaming at eachother, approaching a lone figure almost hidden in the shadow of one of the buildings. There was some more screaming before one of the approachers proceeded to attack the man hidden in the shadows, who seemed to be holding.. was that a bicycle?Alistair watched as the scene played out before his eyes, his mind wandering off.

Around 15 years ago,he'd never have imagined that it would turn out like this. Life. Sure he'd always lived in Batavia Block, at 2A but he would never have thought he'd be babysitting his two nephews in here. Who were his brother's kids. 15 years ago, he couldn't stand Arthur, just like their other brothers.

One of the men on the street let out an ear destroying roar "SADIQ DON'T!" but the redhead payed no attention to them.

Alistair's lips curled into a fond smile when he remembered all the bickering between Arthur and him and his siblings. He would never have thought he would ever be on friendly terms with Arthur, let alone live with him in the same ugly appartement. Ah, and the appartment was ugly, Allistair thought to himself as he let his gaze wander around the small room.

The brightly colored wallpaper, once chosen by ma and pa Kirkland, made your brain hurt, and the stickfigures drawn all over it weren't helping either. The furniture was incredibily mismatched, the old heavy furniture Arthur couldn't force himself to get rid of, stood beside cheap IKEA furniture.

The most eye burning thing was however, the contrast between earlier mentioned white couch and the pink lacy lamp hanging above it. Alistair chuckled as he recalled his mother proudly displaying it to her horrified children. Nobody had dared to remove it since ma Kirkland passed away. Overwhelmed by nostalgia, Allistair turned his attention to the white couch and the children sleeping on it. The couch stood proudly and fierce, as a rock in a sea of sketches, clothes, food, toys,books and other junk. It was an elegant piece of furniture, truly spotless and glowing in the light that fell through the open window. The whole thing just seemed to have Francis' name all over it. Alistair shook his head, wondering why Francis thought getting a white designer couch was a good idea.

At once, red and blue lights danced over the couch, and Alistair stuck his head out of the window, only to see the three men from before being forced into a cop car.

"I WILL GET YOU HERAKLES! MAYBE NOT NOW BUT I WILL GET YOU!" A man with a leather jacket that shone in the many lights screamed towards someone who was already in the car, while his friend seemed to have rather serious conversation with a police officer, who shook his head. "SIR WE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG, HE STARTED IT! I SWEAR!" The man in the shiny jacket yelled, pointing towards the person in the car. Alistair watched as the man was forced into the car with violence, his friend following calmly. One of the cops grabbed the bicycle, which lay forgotten on the street, and within seconds they were gone.

Allistair shook his head, closing the window and walking back to the living room. He checked his watch, only to freeze in his tracks when he saw the time. Deciding that it was time to put the children into bed, he crouched next to the bundle, proceeding to pull Matthew up with one arm, carefully balancing his beer in the other hand, almost dropping him when he saw two violet eyes stare at him.

"M-Mattie! How long have ye been awake?" The startled redhead exclaimed. Matthew didn't answer, only stared at him. Allistair sighed and put him down gently. "I'm sorry, I forgot yer not really much of a talker, aren't ye?" Matthew nodded shakily, barely able to stand. "I see yer tired, of to bed with ye, didya enjoy the movies?" Alistair said, smirking a little. Matthew shook his head firmly. Alistair wrapped an friendly arm around him, guiding him towards the twin's room. "Why not? Do ye not like Spiderman? Matthew only pointed to the televison. Alistair followed his gaze to the television, where the program apperently had changed to late night tv, with a blonde woman dancing very...inviting. Allistairs eyes widened in horror. "Have ye watched this the whole time!?" Matthew looked to the ground, a look of disgust on his face. Allistair hid his face behind his hand. "I knew it was going too well.." He groaned. "How am I gonna explain this to your daddy, Mattie?" Matthew simply yawned. Alistair took his hand. "Off to bed with ye, please don't tell your parents about this."

Just as they were walking towards the door leading to the twin's bedroom, angry footsteps could be heard all around the building, running up the stairs, accompanied with muffled yelling. Allistair chuckled. "Well it seems like yer daddy and yer papa are also back again." Matthew let out a small whine. Alistair patted his head gently. Poor kid, having his brother and brother-in-law for parents.

"JESUS CHRIST FRANCIS, WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO MAKE A SCENE?!" The door burst open and Francis Bonnefoy walked in, soon followed by Arthur Kirkland.

"I WAS MAKING A SCENE? I WAS MAKING A SCENE?! _SOURCILS_,YOU'RE THE ONE WHO PUNCHED THAT ROSE GUY!" His brother-in-law walked past him, kicking an empty beercan to the side.

His brother crossed his arms and huffed. "He gave you a rose!"

Francis turned around, ponytail swinging furiously. "Because 'e was a ROSE GUY Arthur. 'e was giving everybody roses for god's sake!"

Alistair scratched his head. "Uhm..hello..."

"He gave you one for FREE!" Arthur growled, jealousy clearly visible on his face.

Francis stomped his foot on the ground. "Because 'e was from a brighten-someones-day- CHARITY!" He shrieked. "They hand out roses to prevent people from feeling lonely! _Mon Dieu_, 'e was doing something for humanity and you have to go and punch 'im!"

Arthur threw his coat carelessly aside in a corner of the room. "Yeah, something good for charity, huh? I swear Francis, he was all over you, it suprises me that you of all people didn't catch his hint!"

Alistair opened his mouth to say something, but one glance at Francis' face made him take his words back. Behind him he could feel Matthew fleeing into his room, slamming the door shut.

Francis narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Somebody like me? What's that supposed to mean, _rosbif_?"

Arthur's eyebrows knitted together in a frown. "You know exactly what I mean, frog."

Alistair raised his hands in defense. "Now, now, Is there really a need to call eachother nasty names again?" Neither of the furious blondes payed attention to him.

"He was flirting with you, Francis. You know that, I know that. He gave people who were looking lonely a rose you say? Well, he gave you a rose while it was clearly visible you were with me. And you just accepted it, even flirted back, because you enjoyed his attention!"

Francis grabbed Arthur's coat from the floor and hung it beside his own. "Maybe I did!" He snapped, "But if you don't like me interacting with someone who gives me a rose because of charity, I suggest you don't take me out anymore!"

Alistair looked uncomfortably between the two, wondering whether he should leave or not. Then again, Alfred was still sleeping on the couch, Late Night TV was still on and he still had to finish his beer.

Francis walked closer to Arthur, hands on his hips. He looked fuming, a few strands slipped past the ribbon holding his hair back, dangling in front of his face, face flushed. His perfectly matched designer clothing made him somehow even scarier and Alistair was surprised Arthur didn't step back.

"Maybe," he hissed, his French accent getting thicker with every word, "Maybe I know why the guy gave me a rose."

Arthur huffed, although preparing to step back at any time. "To get into your pants? Because I already knew that, poppet. It's kind of obvious."

"Non,' Francis continued, " 'e gave me a rose because 'e didn't see a couple when 'e saw us. Non, 'e saw moi sitting at a table with some grumpy English date. 'e saw moi sitting there, looking at you, hoping that you would hold my 'and or at least say something romantic but non, monsieur could only complain about the 'orrible French food, or about 'is work. I think that guy must've felt sorry for moi, sitting there _with no other company than you!_"

Alistair gasped, stepping in front of Francis. "Now, now, That wasn't really necessary was it? I suggest you two kiss and make u-"

"Oh REALLY?" Arthur snarled "Why don't you marry that rose guy then?! He can take you out for dinner and hold your hand and all the things I'm apparently not good enough for. He can even take you to Corsica for your honeymoon and then you can do the do on the beach while the sun goes down and dolphins jump up in the background! He can shower you in flowers and other cheap gifts and lots of attention you love so much! You can bloody run of with that guy, It will only make me happy because I don't have to spend money on your fucking expensive designer organic shit anymore!"

Alistair saw Francis eyes fill with tears. "You didn't mean that!" he said to his brother in a low accusing tone. Francis stormed off, locking himself into his bedroom.

Arthur looked at his brother, eyes filled with anger but also the slightest hint of regret. "You're right, I didn't mean a fucking word of it.." Arthur hid his face in his hand. "Alistair? Why am I such an asshole?"

Alistair grimaced, wrapping a brotherly arm around his shoulders. "Yer jus' born that way , lad. Can't help yerself."

Arthur put his head on Alistairs shoulder.. "Do y'think I should go and apologize to him?"

Alistair sighed. 'I don't think he wants to see ye right know, Artie." Arthur's shoulders shook. "Why are we like this? Why can't we be normal? Why do I have to punch a charity-guy in his face?"

Alistair took a sip of the beer he was still holding. 'I dunnae Art, but I know one thing, ya two are certainly not normal. I guess yer way of expressing love to eachother is a little..different."

Arthur laughed through his tears. "Alistair, I just told him to go fuck some random guy on the beach in Corsica!"

Alistair grimaced again. 'Yeah, that wasn' really smooth. But, eyebrows, he ain't no saint either. He said some mean things too, y'know. I think ye two just need to talk to eachother. But not now, apologize to him tomorrow, maybe he needs to overthink things too."

Arthur sniffled. "Thank you, brother. Looks like your brain isn't entirely filled with dust after all."

Alistair grinned, wrapping his arms around his little brother."There's ma brother again." They remained in the embrace for a few moments until- "Alistair, why is Alfred sleeping on the couch? _AND IS THAT LATE NIGHT TV!?"_ Alistair paled, looks like he wouldn't be babysitting for a very long time.

**Soo..chapter 2's up. I really enjoyed writing this. reviews are very much appreciated. Thanks for reading :)**


	4. Chapter 3

**_Rating T : For shady stuff ;)_**

**_Characters: Bella (Belgium) Lars (Netherlands) Carlos (Cuba) Sadiq (Turkey)_**

**_4A Van Rijn_**

_Flashes dance before her eyes. Red, blue, red, blue, red. Sirens numbing her brain. Panic, Panic. We should go, he says. Hurry up. Run. Her shoes are getting dirty. Runrunrun. Specks of mud on her bare legs. Faster, he says. His hand clings to her's. Dragging her mercilessly forward, into the unknown. The rain pours from the sky and he looks funny, his hair flat and sticking against his forehead. Hurry the fuck up, Bella, he says. Runrunrun. And she runs. Runs away from reality, from her brother with his hazy red eyes, from the flashes, from the noise-_

Behind the door of appartment 4A , Isabella Van Rijn's nightmare was roughly interupted by a loud crash. She woke with a start, turning her head into the direction of the sound, but relaxed when she recognized her brothers flat voice. "Watch out for those wires! You'll mess them up." There was some low chuckling in the background and Bella realized her brother wasn't alone.

"Oooh, 'm sorry. Ma head could've been cracked open and here yo are worrying 'bout yo stupid wires." The second voice was a voice Bella knew all too well, low and slightly hoarse, the result of too much cigarettes, and it sent shivers of disgust down her spine. She despised the voice, and the person it belonged to. Sadiq Adnan was loud, and reckless, and in general a bad influence on her brother.

"If you weren't drunk off your ass you'd have noticed the wires right in front of your feet!" She heard her brother snarl, obviously annoyed.

"Maybe you shouln't have placed those wires in the middle of the fuckin' room in the firs' place! Who's the idiot naw, Dutchie?" Sadiq slurred

"Stop whining and let me fix them. I don't want the plants getting cold." Bella heard her brother crouching down, probably trying to untangle the wires from Sadiq's feet.

"You really don' care 'bout me don't ya?"

"Lars here is a man of da money. He cares 'bout nothing but his lil' plants." A third voice chuckled. The voice sounded like azure seas, white beaches and waving palmtrees. Bella immediately recalled tanned skin and dreadlocks. Carlos Machado.

"Yaaaa maaannn...he always carin' fo da plaaantss mannnn. Da lil' itty bitty plaaaaaants."

"Shut it Sadiq. I don't talk like that." Carlos sounded slightly insulted.

"I'm Carloooossss. Wassupp maaannn. Yo wanna have some ganjaaaa?"

"I'm not from Jamaica, you idiot!"

Lars sighed, and Bella imagined him rubbing his temples. "Jesus Christ Sadiq, what the hell did you take? No wonder you two got arrested."

" 's not my fault. It's that STUPID GREEK'S FAULT!" Sadiq exclaimed angrily. The sound of a head being slapped echoed across the tiny appartment.

"Shut it. You'll wake my sister!" Lars whispered.

Bella decided to confront the men in her living room. She slipped into a bathrobe and stalked into the living room.

"Can you please continue this conversation somewhere else?" She said, slightly angry.

Three heads turned in her direction. "Bellaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..." Sadiq slurred, spreading his arms, stumbling towards her, but Lars gripped his arm and yanked him back forcefully. "Sister." was the only thing he said. Carlos acknowledged her presence by giving her a small wave.

"What is this, Lars. Why the hell are they here? Why are you so late!? Have you got any idea how late it is?" She snapped.

Carlos gave her a guilty look. 'Well..You see, Saddie and I had some trouble at-"

"Why do you care?" Lars interrupted with an uninterested voice.

Bella felt heat rise to her cheeks and she had to force herself to not slap him across the face right now. "Have you got any idea how worried I was!? You could've been injured, or dead!"

Lars gave her a emotionless glare, eyes red."I was only out with friends, nothing special. Jeez, you're not my mother, Bella."

'We were cycliingggg. It was aweeesome!" Sadiq swayed in Lars' grip, head lolling on his shoulder.

"Out with friends? If you think of the underage high school students you sell your... things to as your friends I suppose you were 'out with friends'." Bella felt angry tears form in the corner of her eye.

Lars' brow twitched. "Sister, can you please mind your own buisiness? It's none of your concern who I sell my.. stuff to."

Sadiq let out a high pitched, hysteric laugh. "He means ganjaaaaaa. We and the kids smoked lots and lots of ganjaaaaaaaa. Dutchie really enjoyed himself. He gave da ladies some ganjaaaaa and they shaked their asses like-"

Bella growled. "Get out." The look in her green eyes could kill, and Carlos quickly grabbed hold of his friends hand and dragged him towards the door. "It's morning already?' He asked, glancing at the window, where the sun had started to rise. "Breakfast timeee!" Sadiq exclaimed happily, and the both of them stumbled out the door.

Lars watched them go, then slowly turned his eyes to his little sister. "I suppose you're not going to make breakfast for me?"

His only answer was the furious glance in her eyes. They stared at eachother, one slightly swaying, the other almost shaking with fury.

"Well, guess I've got to text Carlos to get breakfast for me too." He shrugged. Bella walked to the small kitchen, opening the fridge.

"You do that." She said, voice deadly calm, while pouring herself a glass of milk. He watched her drink for a few awkward minutes, then he turned on his heel.

"I'm going to look at the plants." He called over his shoulder. No reply. Until he was almost at the door.

"Tell me, Lars." Her voice was shrill and sharp, shaking with anger. 'Do you enjoy drugging people?"

He grimaced, opening the door. "I'm going to go now."

"Do you like taking advantage of girls of my age?" The door slammed shut, the thrown glass of milk shattering against it.

**Nethy is a douche. Short chapter is short.**


End file.
